Mad Raver
by Soha
Summary: A life history of Korr, the last unicorn king of the Vale. (This is probably gonna be one long son-of-a-gun, so be warned!)
1. Prologue

Body Prologue 

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Tursi raised her head and flared her nostrils, tasting of the stale, metallic odor of the storm. The clouds above her head raged and tossed, their backside lit occasionally by a crash of thunder. Sound boomed out over the Vale, pulsing down through Tursi's bones and shaking her to her very hooves. Little fingers of lightning stretched like living things to touch the earth, and brought death in their caress. The little umber filly stood bold upon the hillside, chest puffed out, and stared into the storm. 

The rain came down, drilling at her head. Soft at first, the little drops soon became more and more insistent. Tursi's tail, now grown out nearly full, flicked in dismissal of the water. The nearly half-grown unicorn stood her sentry upon the forested hill, refusing to back down despite rain or lightning or the harsh wind. She would do her father proud. 

Tursi blinked as rain fell into her lashes, dropped onto her eye. She shook her head and scraped a hoof against the ground, impatient and defiant. No storm would see her tail turned, no matter of its strength. She pushed her chest further out, bracing her hooves and continued searching the storm. Her eyes were squinted to keep out the rain. 

Suddenly there was a rustle behind her. Tursi whipped around, lowering her head and brandishing her horn, small though it was, but she could see nothing. Cautiously, the filly took a few steps forward, her head whipping back and forth, trying to track the noise. She stepped into the woods, where less rain got through, and fully opened her eyes. Darkness met her, darkness teamed with silence. The filly stood there several moments more, barely breathing, then turned around to go back to her post. 

A silhouette perched upon the ledge, neck arched, strong beak cleaning the underside of a huge blue wing meticulously. The creature looked up, and Tursi froze a moment as she caught the eyes of a gryphon, a giant formel, soggy and buffeted by wind, but fierce nonetheless. 

"Wingcat!" Tursi whistled as loudly as she could. "A wingcat on the lookout ledge!" Her words were drowned by the storm. The wingcat stood slowly, unstretching itself, and Tursi could not take her eyes from its gaze. Her legs ached to turn and run for dear life, but Tursi's eye were stuck as a fly in a spider's web. Upon the horizon, lightning flashed, lighting up the staggeringly huge mountains where the gryphons made their home. 

"You need not fear me, little one," purred the blue formel, the female gryphon. About this time of year, Tursi knew, the gryphon formels descended from their perches in the mountains and attacked the herd, taking away younglings like Tursi herself. Her mind knew this, but her eyes did not. They were stuck upon the gryphon's face, staring into brightly colored eyes and the dark, slitted pupils that expanded and contracted when the lightning struck. 

"No, little unicorn, I was merely stretching my wings when this big storm hit, and the winds tossed me until I knew not where I was going, and which way was home. I tried to fly the right way, but ended up here. Pity. Little one, I suppose you know the way back to my mountains?" 

Tursi nodded dumbly. 

"Ah," said the gryphon. "Ah, that's good news indeed. Point me straight, could you? For my memory has gone completely. Do they lie east? No, you say? West, perhaps?" Tursi shook her head again. "Then only one option remains. My mountains, then, do they lie straight ahead? Out there, behind you?" The gryphon stretched out a paw. Tursi's eyes rolled down, breaking the trance for a brief moment, and she realized that now the creature's mighty foreleg was right next to her shoulder. The huge talons extended. Stormlight caught the end of the formel's claws and glinted and sparked upon the sharp tips, then danced across the arched edge of them. The gryphon's hindquarters rippled with muscle, then soundlessly, she pounced upon the little umber unicorn, daughter of the prince. Thunder growled in the distance. 


	2. A New Beginning

Body A New Beginning 

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The air in the grotto was cool, but the ground was hot with Sa's exertions. She lay cushioned on a bed of grass that had been gathered days before and changed daily, but still she felt uncomfortable. Her eyes were filmy, and she could barely see the side of the cave, though the lichens shown brightly. Someone was whispered little assurances in her ear. Khraa? No, Sa thought, her mate's voice had a deeper timbre, and he had left her to find a midwife. I don't need a midwife, Sa had told him, I've had a foal before. But Khraa had left anyway, spurred by the memory of his lost daughter. 

Again the voice interrupted Sa's thoughts. A light sort of voice: a mare. The midwife, Tal, most likely. Sa raised her head, cracked her eyes open further and cast about the grotto, looking. Indeed she soon caught a wavering, foggy silhouette standing close by. The dark blue of Tal's coat stood out strongly against the soft green glow of lichens. 

"Closer, now," said the midwife in Sa's ear. "The body partway out. The forelegs kick. It's very well alive, and strong." Sa let her head fall back to the cool stone and groaned, her belly aching and her guts roiling. Her backbone clinched as another violent strain shook her, and she let out a pained moan. Almost out, Tal said somewhere. The foal was almost out. 

Then, suddenly, she felt a huge push and something seemed to drop from her. Still, the contractions continued, and she grunted, barely able to resist the urge to thrash about. Tal appeared by her head, crooning wordlessly to soothe her. Within a very short amount of time, the contractions were over. 

Sa raised her head, looked around groggily, but could not summon the strength to stand yet. She heard the clopping of Tal's hooves on stone, a soft rip of birth sac being torn away from the new one. Tal deposited the caul gingerly by Sa's nose. Eagerly, greedily, the prince's mate gobbled it up, her teeth grinding at the sac. Strength pulsed through her limbs once more, pricking her with pain. "A colt," she heard Tal say. 

Revitalized, the gray mare heaved herself to her feet, staggering a little at first, but quickly regaining balance. Something snapped between her and the foal. Tal, having served her purpose, knew enough to step away and let mother and newborn unite. The little foal lay upon the ground, dark black, his sides sighing softly as he breathed. 

Sa dipped her nose, nuzzled the little one all over, the swept her tongue across his side, cleaning and warming him. He flicked his large ears and rolled onto his stomach, curious and innocent eyes peering into corners and taking in the first sights of the world while Sa waited patiently. 

After waiting what she had deemed a sensible about of time, Sa rubbed her nose along the crest of the foal's neck, felt him arch to meet her touch. Then she brought her nose back and gave the little black foal a bump, urging him to stand. She placed herself before him, well within his sight, and nuzzled him towards her. 

Understanding that food stood in front of him, the colt braced his legs beneath him and heaved. Sa was vaguely away of Tal quietly exiting the grotto, assured that the foal was doing well on his own. The dark one fell immediately, plunging almost straight onto his nose, and lay there for a moment, tail flicking in annoyance. His hindquarters remained raised, though his nose was down, and the little princeling was clearly agitated by the lack of dignity his position gave to him. Sa whickered again, urging him on. 

The forelegs untangled themselves and the colt pushed himself up, quivering with effort. He stepped delicately forward, placing the first hoof carefully, and all his legs went out from under him immediately. 

Undeterred, the little unicorn began gathering himself together again. Sa stood patiently, silent, understanding her new son's need for time. He could and would do this on his own. 

Slowly, when his legs were back under him again, the colt pushed up. The purchase on stone was poor, but he managed it. Now the colt gave a careful little push with one hindleg, and the opposite foreleg swung forward. Swiftly catching himself from a fall, the prince pushed off with another hindleg, and stood braced. For a moment he managed the splayed position, and then the dark young princeling tumbled to the floor, legs stretched out both in front of him and behind. Now he made a little crying sound. 

Moved to comfort him, Sa lipped her foal's neck. The mane had not yet started growing, and was but soft tassels that stroked against the side of her muzzle. She nudged his neck yet again, posing her legs so that her udder hung in full view. Looking up, the princeling blinked his wide, dark eyes, and then gave another push to right himself. 

This time the legs came together of a will, balancing him delicately on four stilts. The colt's brush of a tail flicked agitatedly, and he now gave a push with his hindquarters, caught with his foreleg, then brought the hindleg forward. He followed it up on the other side. It was awkward, but he held up, and soon he stood before his dam. Wasting no time sniffing her, the little colt head dove towards her udder, his mouth closing about her teat. Sa stiffened slightly, then craned her neck around to watch him as he drank. Suddenly, she felt a nicker rising within her throat, and she brought her face up to the tiny ear. 

"Sekoro," she whispered to him. The colt's ears flicked across her muzzle, tickling her fur, and the gray mare pulled back, letting her head fall, her eyes droop with pleasure. Sekoro. Her colt. He will grow to be strong and smart and wonderful, Sa thought to herself. My Sekoro. 

She heard the clip-clop of approaching hooves and turned her head quickly, muscles tensing suspiciously. Khraa paused in the entrance to this little part of the grotto, ready to pull back if his mate hinted distress. But upon seeing her mate, Sa softened, allowing her head to droop, her ears to slant lazily akimbo. Khraa picked his way delicately around her, his eyes riveted on the suckling colt. 

Sa watched him, her dark, coal gray mate, full of pride and very regal, humbled to a prancing, nervous stallion, unsure of where to step. Amused, she laughed at him, warmly, and he paused and looked abashed. Then, stepping around the foal, Khraa brought himself up to Sa and nudged her neck. She rested her chin on his neck for a moment, then pulled away. The gray prince of the unicorns arched his neck down and examined the bed of soft grasses where his mate had strained herself to bring a foal into the world such a short time ago. 

"Look," he murmured softly. Sa turned her head, looking at the bed of grasses. Khraa lowered his nose and nudged an umber-hued, glistening object out of the grass. "The melch," he said, looking up at Sa. His eyes were sparkling. 

"He'll be a great one then, by Alma's Eyes." Sa bobbed her head weakly. "He'll bring something great into this world." 

Khraa nodded gravely. He raised his head and peered around, then turned his eyes onto the foal. "What will we call him?" Khraa inquired. 

Sa paused for a moment. Sekoro's truename was his own, and only he could make the decision to tell his father. Then an idea struck her. "Korr," she said. "We'll call him Korr." 

Khraa paused. "Thunder," he whispered. Thunder, the bass rumbles that had drowned Tursi's cries that stormy night on the lookout rock. . . . He shook himself. Sa felt guilty for reminding him of that night when his belovèd daughter had died, but she felt it was appropriate to honor Sekoro's lost sister in this tiny way. 

Khraa was nodding. "Korr, then. I will go inform the herd that it is a colt, and he is safe and well." He left. 

Sa allowed her tired neck to droop. Her eyes slanted shut. "And great," she murmured. "Safe and well, and great." Korr, finishing his first meal of life, gave a little hiccup and dropped to the floor. Sa looked at him and watched him fall asleep. She could hear the thrum of the dancing, happy hoofbeats from outside the cave, but all she saw was her dark little thunder. 


	3. Queen's Charge

Queen's Charge 

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"Sa!" Khraa whistled as he barged into the grotto. Jumping awake, the gray mare looked at the entrance to the cave, surprised. Then she groaned, immediately aware that Korr's warm body was no longer nestled against her for his daily nap. She pushed herself to her feet and met her mate coming in. 

"Korr was out at the lookout hill," said the gray prince, stamping a hoof. "He's not ever to be up there! Did you not impress that upon him the last time he went to lookout hill?" The charcoal gray stallion pulled himself up and glared accusingly at Sa. 

The mare rubbed her shoulder against her mate, nipping his neck gently. "Of course I did," she said. "But he's curious, Khraa, and angry. All the other foals get to go up there, as all of them will be lookouts when they're near to half-grown. He seethes that he will never be allowed up there." 

The prince of unicorns raised his neck high and stiffened. For several long moments he was silent, and Sa wondered what he was thinking. She glanced over her mate's shoulder, looking for Korr, but didn't see him. Khraa had probably left him in Tal's care until he decided what to do about his son's latest transgression. 

Khraa finally loosed his muscles, and Sa was relieved to see the anger go out of his eyes. "Yes," mused the prince, "he would be upset about that. It is unfair." 

"What will you do?" Sa asked, tilted her head to regard her mate. 

"I will make the lookout hill off-limits to anyone who is not an initiated warrior. The gryphons only take younglings. Of course. I don't see why this wasn't done long ago -- it's hazardous for little ones to be up on that hill, looking out for the very gryphons who would eat them, given the chance. Yes. Yes of course." 

Sa smiled. She'd known her mate would figure out something, and this solved the problem neatly. Korr's railing would cease if he learned that his friends weren't to be allowed on lookout hill either. He was a rash colt, stubborn sometimes, but he was fair in his dealings. "A good compromise, I think," said the gray mare. Khraa nibbled her pale white mane. 

"I will go talk with him," Sa offered. "So that you may discuss this plan with Sonne." Khraa nodded and wandered out of the cave. Sa watched him go, then she, too, stepped out into the bright caress of the noontime sun. 

The grass was green as a tercel's coat and soft beneath her hooves. The suddenness of the shift between the darkness of the cave and the bright sunlight that warmed the Vale made Sa blink and pull back, standing poised with her neck coiled back like a serpent's. Then, still blinking, she adjusted and stretched out. Sa peered down over the Vale, watching with interest her fellows gamboling about, the young half-growns sparring and chasing each other, stretching cramped muscles and strengthening weak ones. After a moment, she identified dark blue Tal, lecturing her students on medicinal herbs or some such. Sa could also identify Teki, Tal's striking young son, dozing peacefully next to the dark and brooding form of her own Korr. 

Sa picked her way down to the floor of the Vale, pausing briefly to greet several of her companions, and walked over to Tal's group. The midwife/healer of the herd glanced up at Sa and bowed her neck. Tal's students, turning, also bowed to the prince's mate. Sa returned the courtesy, thanked them, and indicated that they should continue their lesson. Tal obliged. 

Korr was eyeing her sullenly, showing no signs of welcome. Nor, when she approached, did he change his mood or even cringe, but simply stood and glared angrily at her. Sa sent him a firm look, reminded him of his manners with a nip on then withers, and waited. After a moment, Korr's muscles loosened and he awarded his dam a perfunctory bow. Beside him, Teki, apparently awake but miming sleep, watched with interest. Noticing Teki's open eye, Sa flicked her tail at him. The tip dealt a quick, harsh flick to Teki's shoulders, and the pied colt quickly learned not to snoop. He turned away. 

"Come with me, Korr," Sa said, turning away from her foal. She heard Korr hesitate a moment, looking after her, and then came the quick-paced clopping of his tiny hooves across the turf as he followed. "Your sire is very disappointed," Sa was saying, "but I think he tries to understand. Hurry up, young one, you are too far behind." The gray mare paused and waited for her son to catch up to her. Then she turned to face him. 

"Korr, none of the younglings will be lookouts from now on. It is too dangerous to allow foals up there, where the gryphons are." Sa nuzzled her son's neck reassuringly. 

Korr pulled sharply back, and she was surprised to see the anger in his eyes. "I don't want to be looked after like I was going to break! I'm growing, and I'm getting stronger, but my sire still treats me like a foal. And so do you! Just because Tursi was too stupid to run --" 

"Quiet!" Sa said, stepping forward. She towered over her young colt, looking down at him with burning eyes. "Silence from you!" Her voice was shaking with anger and repressed misery. "Your sire and I have warned you countless times how dangerous the gryphons are! It doesn't matter how big and strong you are, because it takes a whole host of warriors to defeat even a pair of gryphons. And even if it didn't, a gryphon's voice enchants. They sing their prey right into their beaks! By Alma's Eyes, Korr, your sister lost her life to gryphons' treachery, and you above all should know that, and respect her." 

Korr shrank away, but barely. "Aye, dam, Tursi deserves respect. That's what I'm always told: that Tursi was such a wonderful, promising filly. 'Oh, how the prince misses her!' they say. How he screamed when they found gryphon claw-marks in the mud on the hill after she vanished! I'm nothing but a replacement for her, who would have been the perfect queen!" 

Sa was silent for a long moment, staring at her defiant son. Korr stood braced, his legs with their knobby knees braced well apart, his shallow foal's chest puffed out. His eyes flashed with hard anger, and his head was raised as far as his short, broad neck could get it. Sa noticed that the tip of a horn springing through the fuzz upon his brow, the first fuzz of a beard beneath his chin. "Korr . . ." she said softly. Her foal's muzzle twitched slightly, his nostrils flared. "Korr. In our hearts and minds, you are not a replacement for Tursi. Nay, hark me, son; don't turn your head. From the moment you were born, we knew that you were great. I know it still. You, princeling of the unicorns, will someday rule, and I believe that your reign will be a great one. You will make even Alma proud, my son, if you would but keep your temper cool and your hooves firmly in the Ring of Law. Then you will become a fine warrior, a fine stallion, and a wonderful king. And I will always stand with you, and love you, and you, not Tursi, will be a perfect ruler of the unicorns." 

Korr's firm stance lessened. He took a step, breaking the pose, and moved into his mother's side. She felt him press against her ribs, turned her head and nuzzled his own ribs gently. Her ropelike tail flicked, shooing the biting flies away from her nursling's tender hide. The sun warmed her back and his as they stood together, comforting and being comforted. 

Sa was suddenly aware of little Teki standing a distance off, staring at them. Lifting her head from her colt, she blinked at him, and the little pied foal pranced nervously. "Dam sent me to you," said the black-and-white colt. "Tas, the little one, is ailing again and she needed to mind him. She hopes you do not mind watching me." 

The little colt at Sa's side pulled away, staring suspiciously at the healer's strange, pied son. Teki, with the black spots over his eyes, who seemed never to blink, appeared unbothered by Korr's withdrawal at his approach. Sa's tail flicked Korr across the hocks, admonishing him for being so rude to the son of the mare who midwived him. She bowed her head formally to the pied colt. Teki returned the gesture gravely. 

Sa then noticed Khraa waiting just beyond the pied colt, pacing back and forth. "It will be no trouble minding you, Teki. I hope Tas is all right, but now I must speak with Khraa. You and Korr can play while I am busy. I will be nearby if you need me." Then, with a final nod to the pied colt, and affectionate nibble of her own son's withers, Sa strode over to join her mate. 

"I have bad news," said Khraa, his voice flat but his eyes sparkling with anger. 

Sa paused midstride. She looked at her mate. His body was neutral and revealed nothing of his thoughts, but she could see from that sparkle in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw that he was upset. "The queen refused our plan?" 

Khraa shook his head. He stamped a hoof, the muscles rippling along his shoulder. "Nay, she thought it was a wonderful idea, and she thinks it was probably foolish ever to let younglings up on lookout hill." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

"Sonne . . . Sonne is nervous about Korr. She believes us capable of raising him, but she wants to keep an eye on him herself." Now Khraa's muscles tensed with an effort not to show strain, but Sa noticed it anyway. "She does not, I believe, think us 'capable' of keeping his life structured. She says that he does his mischief often, and she wants to put a stop to it herself." 

Sa paused. Sonne was a good ruler and a wise mare, she reminded herself. If anyone knew how to raise an unruly colt to be a law-abiding stallion, it was Sonne. The memory of Khraa's wild younger days was a stringent one to Sa, but he had grown into an intelligent, well-behaved adult. Still, Sa could not shake off the feeling that Sonne found her lacking in ability to successfully raise a colt. She stiffened through the withers. 

"Well," she voiced part of her thoughts aloud, "if anyone can deal with a wild young colt, Sonne can." Sa rubbed apologetically against her mate, who whickered and allowed himself to be comforted a little. "When does she want to begin?" 

"She'll initiate contact with him whenever she has time," Khraa said in that distant, stilted tone he assumed when hiding his disgust for something. "Most likely she won't begin work with him until he is at least a year old." 

Sa nodded. She turned and looked at her colt, now romping hesitantly with Teki. The sound of their laughter drifted over to her on the breeze, merry and bright. The wind ruffled the grass ever so slightly. Someone hailed Khraa, and stallion and mare both turned to look. Then Khraa, beckoned over by a friendly whistle, trotted away, and Sa turned back to the colts, frisking merrily beneath the noonday sun. 

***** 

Korr yawned and rolled over onto his side, allowing the sun to toast him on that side. The sweet smell of grass was in his nostrils, rich enough to make an adult unicorn hungry, but Korr lived on his mother's milk as yet, and was untempted. Sunlight turned his nursling fringe of mane from black to dark brown with highlights of amber hidden in them. A bug crawled up his leg and worked its way across his belly, tickling him. Korr's skin twitched spasmodically until the bug was shaken off, then lay still. 

Blades of grass itched at his muzzle. Korr shifted on the ground, moving to a more comfortable position where the grass would no longer itch him so. Then he closed his eyes and prepared for a nap, allowing his consciousness to slip blissfully away into the warm darkness of sleep. 

A hoof stamped right next to his head. With a start, Korr awoke. He looked in surprise at the cloven hoof next to him, a dainty one with a mallow, reddish hue. Rolling his eyes up, Korr's vision was cast across a neat, well-constructed foreleg, up the muscled shoulder of a warrior, along a regal, crested neck, finally to settle upon a sierra-red face with intense, sparkling eyes. Jerking back and kicking onto his feet, Korr bowed his head and greeted the cerise queen of the unicorns of the Vale. 

"Well met, little Korr," said Sonne, and the long, elegant leg stamped again. Korr, unsure of what to do or say, looked around for his mother, but saw no sign of Sa. Khraa he did find, but his sire, newly returned from guiding the warrior-initiates on their pilgrimage to the Hallow Hills, had fallen deeply asleep in the warm sunlight. The little colt turned back to Sonne, who gave him a little nudge with her nose. "I watch you today for your sire and dam," she said with a nod of her head. 

Trying to gather his wits together still, Korr nodded. The cerise mare stood absolutely silent, staring at him with an eerie wordlessness that made the colt uncomfortable. Suddenly, in this worst of moments, an itch seized him about the brow and he ached to scratch his young horn upon a nearby rock, but could not bring himself to break the gaze with Sonne. He feared she would feel he was disrespecting her if he should suddenly start scrubbing his head against a rock. The princeling shifted uncomfortably, tossed his head a little and pulled the muscles in his neck to a firm tightness. 

"Sooth," said Sonne, amused. "Do not be wary in my presence, little one. I am here to watch you, not to scold you." She folded limb and couched herself, quite calmly, tucking her nose down by her chest and tilting only one ear towards him. The queen's eyes closed. 

Hesitant, Korr remained staring at her. Oh, his forehead itched! One of Sonne's eyes popped open and looked at him, as if asking him a question. The little colt shifted uncomfortably. The dark eye closed. A cool breeze washed in off the mountains, sending little shivers down Korr's spine. Sonne said, her eyes still closed, "Off with you now, Korr. I will rest here awhile and be your companion." 

Realizing of a sudden that he had been ordered to go, Korr sprang away. His head dove down and he scratched furiously against a rock, rolling his withers back and forth in his frenzy to relieve himself of the itching. Then, with a little sigh, he, too, fell to the ground, barely bothering to fold his forelegs underneath him. Sleep caught him almost instantly Another cool breeze washed down off the mountainside. 

He was aware of someone standing over him, and woke expecting Sonne. Instead, it was Teki, Tal the healer's pied son, with his unblinking eyes. Korr jolted awake and looked around for Sonne. The queen was sleeping on her feet a small ways off. He leapt to his feet and turned to Teki. 

"My dam bade me --" began the pied colt. Korr cut him off. 

"Aye, Teki, I know: your dam bade you stay with me while she tends to Tas. I like you all right, Teki, but I've started asking Alma every night either to make Tas better or let him die at last so you won't come to me every day and say 'My dam bade me stay with you while she tends to Tas.'" 

Teki nodded solemnly, shrugging Korr's comments aside. The pied colt would have allowed Korr's comment to go unmarked, and it would have been completely forgotten, however at that moment, Sonne suddenly appeared behind the pied colt. Her eyes were dark with suppressed rage. 

Korr pulled back. He'd thought her asleep. "Korr," she said, in a solemn voice. The princeling turned his head down, ashamed to meet her gaze. Sonne said in a firm, rebuking tone, "The goddess Alma loves all her children, and hopes they love each other. She cannot turn her head when one of her children wishes death upon another. 'Tis evil to have such wishes in your mind, I suggest you rid yourself of them." 

The little princeling scuffled a hoof slightly. His forehead itched again. Teki moved silently away to let the two of them argue, but Korr could picture those black-rimmed eyes focused intently on the scene, drinking in the conversation greedily, though Teki would never tell a soul what he heard. "I did not mean it, granddam," Korr replied, his voice barely a whisper. "I did not really ask Alma to kill Tas. It's not his fault he was born late and poorly." 

Sonne snorted. Korr peeked up and saw her shaking her head. "Son," she said, "I know you meant no harm. Yet Alma stands defiled, and will unless you promise never to say such things again." Korr opened his mouth to promise, but Sonne stamped a hoof. "And you must apologize to Tas. Come, stand. I will take you over." 

Korr groped about in his mind for something to say. "What of Teki?" he asked. "Who will watch Teki?" 

"Teki can come with us," said Sonne, nodding at the pied foal. Teki bowed his head to her, very respectfully. Korr groaned inside. Then he trailed Sonne as she led the way to Tas' little grotto, lingering as far behind as he could. Teki stood back even further. 

The cave burned with a stale odor of sickness. Even the lichen on the walls was a gross, dark, unhealthy color, as if the sickness of the cave's occupant had affected it. Water dripped from a ceiling somewhere within, and its slow, patient, round percussion rang through the quiet cave. Occasionally the dropping was pierced by the sound of the tapping hooves of Tal, so Korr assumed, circling her patient and fetching various medicinal herbs to try. The air tasted of gangrene, and Korr felt as if he had just eaten some of the lichen on the walls. Even Sonne blanched at the hideousness of it. Showing the first sign of emotion here, Teki stood outside, his eyes dark and sad. He balked and refused the queen when she told him to go in, but surprisingly, Sonne did not press the issue. 

Korr and Sonne proceeded deeper in alone. The little princeling crowded close to his granddam, fearful, his eyes large and round with nervousness. As they reached Tas' little grotto, the smell became even worse, and Korr could smell a lingering odor of loose manure. He pulled back and would have retreated, but Sonne's tail lashed him. The queen's eyes were hazy, as if she were distancing herself from this cave and place. She forced Korr to proceed her into the room. 

Here was where the water dropped. Tas, a dappled colt, Korr's age but a quarter smaller and not yet hornsprung, lay on his belly on fresh grass his parents had hauled in, staring at the drop. Each time the water fell, Tas's eyes followed the droplet down, then when it splashed and splattered, the eyes went back up and awaited the next drop. It was a miracle of Tal's hard work that the foal's bedding was not wet, either from the constantly dripping water or from the loose stool whose scent lingered about Tas. The healer glanced up when Sonne and Korr came in, blinking in surprise and forgetting to bow to the queen. 

"Teki? He did something?" she asked, disbelief already in her voice. 

Sonne shook her head. "Nay. Korr wishes to speak with Tas, if it does not disturb your care of him." 

Tal eyed Korr thoughtfully for a moment, then turned still worried eyes back to the queen. "But Teki?" she inquired. "Where is he?" 

"Outside the cave," said Sonne. "He did not wish to enter." 

Tal's tail flicked. The healer mare looked mournfully at Tas, her little patient, but the colt was still following the water up and down, oblivious to the conversation going on around him. "Let us leave," said Tal, "that the colts may speak." 

Sonne nodded wisely, and both mares left. Korr shifted uncomfortably, looking at Tas, but the dappled colt ignored him. The pluck of water on the cave floor sounded loudly in the silence. The little dapple shifted, brought his hindquarters into view. Fur was chafing off and the skin beneath was flaked and dry. Tas's tail was straggly. The water dropped to the floor. 

"I'm sorry that you're sick," Korr said at long last. He looked at Tas for a response. _Pluck_, the water said. "Really I am. I said something mean while I was talking to Teki, about wishing you would die, but I didn't mean it. It's not your fault you're little and sick." Silence still. "Does is hurt you a lot?" 

More silence from the dapple. Not even a flick of Tas's eyes. "Look, Tas, I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry. And that if -- when -- you're better, you can come to me and we'll talk. Maybe we'll be friends. I hope so. I hope we'll be friends soon." 

The water told him _pluck_. Korr felt a little frustrated. "Are you even listening? Would you understand if you were listening, or have you spent so much time in here that you don't understand any words at all? Oh, Alma . . . I'm sorry, Tas. I didn't mean that. Forgive me?" 

_Pluck._

Korr sighed and turned to leave. He jumped a little when his hooves clopped resoundingly on the stone. Somehow, he thought as he glanced down at the floor, the cave seemed especially empty. Hollow. Dead in every way. Rock, he knew, was not alive, but this rock was more dead than the stuff in his home grotto. He made his way to the egress. 

"I like the water," Tas said suddenly. Korr turned around, startled. "When I watch it, my stomach doesn't hurt so much. I've been watching it for weeks. It just does the same thing, over and over, like Tal. Every now and then the noise changes a little, or the pace, but it's still the same. Still keeps dripping. I think it irritates Tal, the dripping, but I'd go mad without it. It's the only thing I get to watch. I've watched if for so many days . . . yet I can't find a source. Where does it come from, the water?" 

Korr looked at the little colt, the weak one with the smelly haunches, lying on the gathered grasses. Since his birth, the foal had never moved from his little bed except to wash the stench off of his legs. He barely knew the outside world, had probably never seen Alma's eyes sparkling and winking at him from the dark blue of the evening sky. "It comes from Álm'harat," Korr said softly, daring to use the goddess's full name. There was another pause, while he waited. Tas seemed to be nodding slowly, but he was only following the water up and down. Korr turned again to leave. 

"I hope I get better soon. I want to run in springtime," Tas whispered to himself. Korr paused, glancing over his shoulder at the sickly colt. Nodding his head, he quietly left the grotto, and heard the faint drips of water following him out. 

He paused as he emerged once again into the sunlight, looking hesitantly at the three before him. It was obvious that the queen and Tal had been talking, but they had fallen silent as they heard Korr's hoofbeats returning. Teki stood next to his dam, his chin rested on her withers, staring thoughtfully out at the Vale, spread far below. 

Korr bowed his head to them, and Sonne and Tal returned the gesture. Teki seemed unawares. Then Tal nudged her little colt, waking him and removing his muzzle from her withers, and slipped into the darkness of Tas's grotto. Teki shook himself, blinked, turned to watch her go. Then he looked at Korr, his dark, black-encircled eyes seeming even more shadowy than usual. The pied colt nodded as he stepped up to Korr, raising himself. 

"I go to help my dam," Teki murmured. He slipped past Korr's shoulder towards the grotto. Korr turned in time to see his friend pause at the entrance to the cave, obviously steeling himself as if he were preparing to fight some gigantic monster. Then the pied colt vanished into the darkness. 

Korr turned back to Sonne, saw her watching him. Wordless, the queen turned onto the path which led back to the safety of the Vale, and they descended. 


	4. Wingcats

Body Wingcats 

------------------------------------------------

"Gryphons," Korr affirmed. He nodded his head firmly. 

Tas looked around, as if expecting a gryphon to suddenly appear. Little still, just barely recovered from his illness, he would probably make a tantalizing prospect for a passing, hungry gryphon. "Nary a thing!" he exclaimed. "There are no gryphons in the Vale." 

"Ah, because they have not yet come this year!" Korr said. He lowered his head and advanced one step, forcing Tas to back away. "They go out hunting come every spring, searching for meaty little fillies and foals to bring back to their hatchlings. Lure their prey in close so they don't even know the danger, purr them little stories, stare into their eyes and convince their prey that gryphons are beautiful, to come closer, come a little closer still, and then -- _SNAP!_ They pounce, and you are dead." Korr thought it rather artful, the way he slipped in that "you" as if it was purely natural that Tas would be their prey, and everyone expected it. He could see the terror in the little dapple's eyes. 

Fighting back with incredulousness, Tas forced himself to snort. "Right, Korr. What do you know of gryphons, anyway?" 

Korr drew back as if insulted. "What know _I_ of gryphons? Why, my own sister, Alma keep her, was killed by one a mere three springs ago on the lookout hill! I remember while being born, that I dreamed I saw her carted away by that great creature, how it lured her to its clutches, earned her trust! Aye, it was a pretty creature, that I'll say. A formel this one, with feathers of a dark blue like poisoned waters. Bigger than ten grown warriors!" The story seemed to unwind effortlessly from Korr's mind, and despite himself, Tas could not help but be entranced by the tale, further enthralled by the exaggeration. 

Korr continued, "Her voice had a singsong note like water slapping against rocky shores, a rush of foamy hisses. To look into her eyes was to look into evil itself, and be trapped within their gaze like a green-tailed fly in a spider's web. She moved with the greatest of ease and grace, each step slipping from her like brookwater laughing thinly across its rocky bed. The majesty of her was breathtaking; to see the silhouette she cast once more! Power ebbed from her, especially from her great blue wings, folded neat atop her back though they were. A creature could die no happier than locked in lovely gryphon gaze." Korr bowed his head slightly. Tas stamped a foot, prancing nervously in place. 

"Do you think there would be an escape?" asked the little dapple. "Some way to catch a gryphon's eye, and live, and not be killed by it? I will there were." 

Korr brought his head back up. He set his nose at an angle, so that only one eye centered on the other colt. "Will it not!" he exclaimed. "Beauty as wicked as the gryphons have ought not to be enjoyed at all. Like the wyverns did to the poor king Jared: not lovely, but their clearness fascinating. Do not let another's beauty be your downfall, Tas. Wish not to see a gryphon's face." 

Scraping the toe of his hoof against the ground, Tas muttered, "Aye, perhaps that's for the best. Korr . . . the gryphons. They would not really come for me, would they?" 

"I wish that I could bear you good news, little sop." Korr used the deprecatory word 'sop' with affection. "But the gryphons hunt such tender targets as you present. Yet I'll give you wise advice: stay you always close to some shelter till you're grown. It's tender foal's meat gryphon's crave, and they find the adults to harsh and tangy-skinned." 

Tas nodded. His eyes were now huge with fear, and he glanced once around him as if trying to locate the nearest shelter. Then he edged towards a nearby copse of trees. Korr bowed his head to hide his amusement. 

"Well, let's talk of more pleasant things." Korr put in, raising his head back up. He chivvied Tas with his budding horn, stifling the itch that way. Annoyed, Tas craned his neck around and nipped Korr's neck. 

"Don't chivvy me," the dapple colt said sullenly. Korr eyed him closely, then chivvied him again. The princeling's steps were light and high of knee; he invited Tas to battle him. Rising to the challenge, Tas backed a step away and reared, then tried to circle round Korr. 

The black princeling joyed silently. Battle, even colt's mock fights such as this one, soothed his mind. Someday, the herd would leave this wretched, gryphon-ridden Vale and return at last to their Hallow Hills, the beautiful land stolen from them by treacherous wyverns. Halla, long-dead princess who had saved what few unicorns would heed her warning words though they ran against her father's trust of the white wyrms, had saved what of the tribe she could. Now, their numbers growing, the herd awaited only the arrival of the prophesied Firebringer who would help them wrest back their Hills, and in the meanwhile, they sharpened hooves and horn and prepared for a tough battle against hard-breasted, sting-tailed wyverns. 

Korr's feet touched very lightly on the ground when he took steps. He whistled a foal's battle cry and rushed his tiny friend, who reared neatly up to meet him. Having been sick and useless his first years upon Alma's glorious planet, the little dapple had worked especially hard to bring his weakling's body up to fighting strength. As such, Korr found his friend to be a small but quick and lithe opponent, worthy certainly of battle. 

Their long legs tangled a little in the air, each of them struggling to gain the advantage by kicking off each other and rising high. Tas slipped his legs free and, taking a step back with his hindquarters, fell four-footed. Korr followed a mere count behind, his eyes sparkling and nostrils flared with exhilaration. 

Again, they rose, legs intertwining. Neither were yet accurate enough to use the penultimate warrior's trick, to balance their own front legs on the other's and push him down while heaving themselves further up to strike, but they each were practicing this move, hoping to pull it off. Korr got one foot on Tas's, but the dapple flailed his legs and he fell off. Tas thumped to the ground and was forced to take a sideways step as he almost lost his balance. 

Landing his own feet firmly, Korr moved his hindquarters out of the way. He was now facing Tas at a much shorter distance, poised and ready for the next attack. This time, he had determined, he would let the little dapple initiate the charge. 

Suspicious, aware that Korr's fighting habits had changed unexpectedly, Tas began to circle. Korr had very little room to turn himself and face the other colt, and realized that Tas wanted it that way. He bolted out of Tas's circle, turning back to face him just as Tas initiated a charge. The two colts met at an awkward diagonal, Tek charging Korr's shoulder head-on. The princeling had to twist his body around to meet Tas in time. 

Because of his awkward positioning, Korr could little refute Tas's charge. He fell back in mere seconds, stumbling, his flanks aching a little, complaining of the pain. It made him happy, to have such a clever fight upon him. The princeling set his eyes on Tas's chest, watching for each tiny ripple of muscle that warned him of the other's moves before they came. He began to plan quietly. 

Tas was pleased with himself, but took care not to let confidence overrun his judgment. Wary of his friend, the little dapple colt took a step back, and stood with feet braced and ready to dash aside the next charge. Korr was wondering if he could employ his horn, for where horns were concerned, he had much more than Tas's reach. No, horns could do dangerous damage. Tas would be at mercy of the princeling's horns and hooves. 

Quickly, Korr dashed up, and gave a half rear, tricking Tas. The dapple colt reared up all the way. Korr rocked his weight onto his hindquarters and sprang up after, gaining the advantage because his balance was as yet firm, while Tas, his legs beginning to quiver from the strain, was wavering. 

Korr brought his legs up neatly and kicked at Tas's chest, missing by a bare fraction. Tas twisted away and lost his balance. He landed. The princeling, minded of how his flanks could twist, albeit with pain, twisted his own body around, bringing his forelegs against Tas's side. The dapple whinnied in surprise, lost his balance, and fell onto his side, pushed. Startled still, he blinked in shock up at Korr. 

Quieted, content with the outcome of the battle, Korr dropped to all fours and took a step back, calling for an end. Tas brought his legs beneath him and pushed upwards, his rickety shanks swaying. The little dapple colt bowed his head. "Clever," he muttered, champing his teeth. Grass stained half his side. 

Korr started to say something, then paused. In the happy heat of battle, he had not noticed anything but Tas, but now he was aware of their small audience. A group of fillies, each a year Korr's senior, stood there. At the head of them stood Rasa. 

Rasa was a pale, organic pink color that pulsed brightly like the dawn. A well-fed filly, she stood nearly the height of any colt, hefty with muscle, quick of foot. Her mind was reputably quick to catch a hint, and her spirit had long since shaken off any inhibitions she might have had, and ran free. She was beautiful. 

The pale filly stepped forward, eyeing Tas. She moved up to him and checked him over like a protective mother, searching him for strain or hurt. The dapple colt looked up at her with wide eyes, intimidated, and slipped back and away. Rasa snorted, prancing lightly, unoffended. Korr let out his breath. He hadn't realized that he'd been holding it. 

"Well fought, little princeling, little colt," Rasa said. She had a quiet, lovely voice. Then she bowed her head to Korr and Tas in turn. "Keep yourselves healthy and safe," she said by way of a farewell. Then she trotted back to join her group of fillies, one of whom shouldered her and nipped her withers with affection. They meandered away, Korr staring after them. Tas slowly stepped forward, glancing between Rasa and the foot-stuck Korr. 

"Wake up," Tas said, nipping his friend's withers. "She's not like to notice colts as young as we are. Better you gaze on different things." 

Korr turned to his friend, amused. "You think I would be better off to stare into a gryphon's gaze?" 

"You'd be smarter with that choice, sure." Tas laughed, shouldering his friend. Then he raised his head high. "Ho, it's Teki!" As always, the little dapple colt's voice was suffused with merry welcome for the pied colt who had comforted him daily during his ills by bringing branches of tart rueberries to ailing Tas's grotto. The pied colt turned his head, his dark, unblinking eyes with their surrounding spots of black fixing on the other two. Teki approached. 

The healer's colt bowed low. "Hail and well met, Tas," he murmured, "and Korr. How fare you each?" 

"Korr toppled me," Tas said with annoyance, turning his side so Teki could see the stain of grass. The pied colt raised a curious glance to Korr, who merely flicked an ear, as if discounting the whole battle. 

"Aye, that I did. Try a scuffle, Teki?" Korr inquired. The healer whickered, cheerfully enough, but shook his head. 

"My time, I feel, is better spent in gathering herbs for my craft, oh son-of-the-prince. Boring though the task may be to most, I welcome it. My dam is lecturing soon on certain weeds, and I seek to find them for her." 

Tas, made uncomfortable by the mention of the lecture, suddenly sought escape. "Indeed? Well, nice to see you, my friend. I wish you luck in finding that which the healer needs. Would that I could help you, but I fear to wander far from my dam's sight. She worries, as you know." 

Teki nodded solemnly, bowed his head again to both colts, and walked off. Korr watched him solemnly out of earshot, then turned to Tas with a laugh. "You're not quite good at shirking duties." 

Tas glared at him. "You speak like you yourself could shirk anything. You haven't passed a single undone deed across Vert's ears, well I know it." 

Korr darkened suddenly. "Hush you, or I'll have you thrown on your side again. I won't make a move to help you when the gryphons come for your throat, so I won't. Be fed to their hungry chicks piece by piece on your own." 

Tas hesitated. He was stuck between further pursuing the argument with Korr, and apologizing. He felt a little safer from the gryphons when he was in the wise princeling's presence, and yet . . . "Chicks?" he asked, deciding to change the subject. 

"Monstrous ones," Korr said. "It's for their hungry pips that the gryphons come a-hunting in the Vale each year. In fact, when it gets late in the season and the pips are big enough to kill their own, then the gryphon formels carry foals live back to their nest, and let their pips descend and make the final kill." 

"Hush up, Korr, you frighten me with these tales of gryphons." 

"True ones, little Tas. All of them true." 

"What would you know of their eating habits?" asked Tas. 

Korr tired of this particular game; it was no longer thrilling. He would end it. "You asked before what I knew of gryphons," said Korr in a detached voice. "I told you then that my sister was taken by one. I tell you now, that also I hear Vert and other adults talking of the gryphon menace. They don't think I understand what they're discussing, but I do. The gryphons come soon, you know. It's spring time. That's their season." He dropped his head to the ground and began nonchalantly to graze. 

"Springtime," Tas repeated, whispering. He glanced around him, then trotted over to a nearby copse of trees for shelter. 

**** 

Korr awoke with a start from a dream of running free through long grasses, stretching out and galloping as quickly as he could across endlessly beautiful landscapes, without a care in the world. The grass pards even bowed their heads in his passing and refused to give chase, knowing they could never catch a creature as swift as he. The real Korr, barely weaned from his mother's milk with a beard still lengthening on his chin, rolled to his stomach and stood. 

The grotto was empty. Sa had gone out to forage with Khraa, leaving her young son to meditate on his own in the cave. Shaking himself off like a Plains dog, Korr stepped out of the cave, stretching and blinking against the bright morning light that bit at him and put black holes in his vision. Korr inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring at the crisp scent of spring flowers and grasses sickeningly sweet with newfound supplements. Carefully avoiding loose rocks, the young princeling edged his way down to the floor of the Vale, prancing a little as he went and stretching his muscles. He looked around, searching for someone to amuse him. 

He caught sight of something up above the hills and froze. His muscles tensed and he leaned forward, as if he would be able to see better that way. The figure remained a hazy, fluttering shadow. Korr pranced. _To look into her eyes was to look into evil itself, and be trapped within their gaze like a green-tailed fly in a spider's web. _Yes, he had said that. He knew it to be true . . . had known it, somehow, since the day he was born. The princeling's muscles tensed. He must see these wingèd haunts. 

A whistle called his gaze back from the mountains. It was Tas, coming towards him. Under his breath, Korr cursed luck that the little colt should be awake and spot him. He cast a long glance at the lookout hill, the best place to spot incoming predators. He _must _see. 

"Tas! Keep quiet, and follow me to the hill," Korr said, and moved away. The dapple fell quickly in behind him, chattering questions. Korr spun his tail in annoyance, then flicked Tas's jaw with it and repeated his command to be quiet. Quite taken with the delightful mystery of his friend's strange behavior, Tas finally obeyed, though Korr could sense him on the border of asking a dozen questions. 

They were up to the woods now. The hill was a high promontory, with an unclimbable face and sides cloaked by woods. Korr paused, and tried to gain recognition of the unicorn on the lookout hill, but could not. He -- and Tas -- would have to get closer to their target. Unhesitating, Korr plunged into the forest. He'd been up here many times, most of them unknown to his parents, when he was younger, and could remember the way. 

_Stormlight caught the end of the formel's claws and glinted and sparked upon the sharp tips. _Korr dipped his head, and began powering his way up the hill at a faster rate. Tas picked up a trot to keep pace, panting at Korr to slow down. 

The princeling hesitated. His eyes flashed; he must see the gryphon. The lookout would surely spot the gryphon soon; Korr wanted to have the lookout distracted for a short time while he looked at that gryphon. Had to see them. An idea hatched in the back of his mind. 

"Quickly, Tas!" he said, and galloped forward. His feet, familiar with the path, knew which turns to make and hooked them neatly. He wound easily through the trees, up and up toward the top of the hill. Behind him, as expected, Tas stumbled and fell behind. Frightened without his friend, the little dapple cried out, but Korr pretended to be beyond hearing. Tas's calls, Korr knew, would soon attract the lookout. The position would be right, the time correct. 

Korr plunged further upwards through the trees, leaving the regular path so that he wouldn't collide with the lookout on his or her way down. He slowed now, so that he wouldn't fall. Senseless still, Tas continued to cry out for help, blissfully naming no names. Soon he would recovered himself, would remember that lookout hill was forbidden and that he would be in great trouble if discovered up here, and would be silent. 

Korr reached the top of the lookout hill to find the lookout gone in search of Tas. He could smell the other's odor, but it was unfamiliar to him. The princeling stepped out on the lookout hill and braced himself. He turned his head and scanned the mountainsides for gryphons. Where had they gone? But a moment ago, they had been there. Stealthily approaching, but seen clearly enough. Had they found some sort of shadow? Korr began to feel misgivings. 

Regaining his senses, Tas had fallen silent far below. Korr heard outraged screams: the lookout, angry to be tricked. The princeling half-turned, as if expecting the lookout to come bursting out of the trees. It was not the lookout who came hence. 

Tas suddenly charged forward, his body covered in scratches. Seeing Korr, he skidded to a halt as if comforted. Surprised, the black colt looked at his friend, who was panting heavily and wheezing. He was trying to say something, Korr thought. 

It didn't take long to figure out what. Korr might have figured it out beforehand, had he given it some thought. 

A gryphon formel burst out of the trees, running full pace. Her awkward body structure made it hard for her to move quickly on land, so little Tas had had the lead on her, but she was fast behind. Korr heard the thrumming of heels as the assigned lookout returned, probably not far behind the gryphon. 

Korr's eyes almost met with the gryphon formel's, but Tas rammed him hard, and the little princeling returned to his senses. He screamed at Tas and bolted for the trees, hoping he would wind a trail so thin the big gryphon would not be able to follow him. The gryphon formel was not, as he had told Tas scant three days ago, ten times the size of a unicorn, but she was still bigger than one. Tas was on his heels as the princeling galloped into the trees. 

They had gotten some way in without hearing sound of pursuit by the gryphon when they heard another scream from somewhere behind. Korr skidded to a halt and turned quickly, looking back. Tas ran into him, whinnying in panic, and bit his friend's shoulder urgently. The princeling turned his back again and ran deeper into the trees. 


End file.
